


The Longest Week

by Rixxy8173571m3W1p3



Series: The Fluffy Adventures With Your Boyfriend Doofus Rick [17]
Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Adorable Doofus Rick (Rick and Morty), Caring, Cleaning, Comfort, Conservatories, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Disappointment, Doofus Rick Being Sweet, Established Relationship, Exploration, F/M, Fluff, Geodes, Gift Giving, Greenhouses, Hugs, Kissing, Off-World, Online Shopping, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Painting, Pancakes, Perfume, Plushies, Roses, Tea, Television Watching, Writers, ebay, falling asleep, gemstones, pruning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-18 01:45:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13671681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rixxy8173571m3W1p3/pseuds/Rixxy8173571m3W1p3
Summary: In this fic, the reader finally gets to see Rick after a week.





	1. Outbid

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PorkChop](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PorkChop/gifts).



You could tell how gloomy today was going to be by the hazy, morning sky. The desk was littered with pencil shavings, and there were no answers to be found in a cup of your lukewarm coffee, nor in the hum of the fan from the cpu. You had been up all night, trying to organize your latest rough draft, but the flow and pacing were all wrong. No doubt, without the proper editing, the critics would find something to nitpick.

In a separate tab, the countdown to the online auction was almost over. Soon the long wait would be done, and the time spent being worried wouldn't have been in vain. No one had made any counter bids in the last two days, and there was only an hour left. Hmm, you still had enough time to edit. 

The characters personalities could use some work, but you weren't in the mood for it. What was special about them? They weren't exactly the perfect little daydreams you usually wrote about, who received happy endings; which was the problem. It was depressing, and way out of your writing repertoire. It would have been nice if you could always linger in faraway places, fantastical worlds, and happy endings.

Yet, with the rise in popularity for dystopian, drama, and gritty stories, your publisher has asked for a sample of something which featured these themes. What you were left with was a story which came too close to home, where everyone dies, and a main character who reflects on their failures, and why they would be punished by living to wallow in their misery. It was exhausting, the lot of it, to draw out such a dark tale, of tragedy, lost affections, and bitter endings. Right now, all you needed was something to look forward to.

You switched tabs again, and was relieved to find you were still the highest bidder. Perhaps your day was going to get a little better.

10….9….8...7…6...5….you've been outbid.

No, no, no, no, NOOOOOOO!

You banged your desk, yelling obscenities at the jerk who had the gall to outbid you. Damn it, you had been watching that collection of gemstones for over a week and this person, who ever they were, took what was supposed to be yours. You wiped at your eyes, and felt like a fool for crying over something like this. Yet, they had been so beautiful, and it had included some of your favorite stones. Just…..damn it, that person had outbid you by $1.50 more, and not only had you lost them, but you felt a heavy blow to your soul.

In your heart, you had already picked a place for them, where the light could reflect off them, cascading its varying colors across your bedroom floor. And there was a few that you had picked out for Zeta-7. You wanted to watch as he picked them up one by one, examining the pieces of opals, amethyst, cats eye, rose quartz, even some geodes. Damn it.

You ached with the sort of grief which could only hope to be called sadness. Ugh, why had you allowed yourself to get excited, before it was a definite, sure thing? Perhaps because you were in the zone, because you were the only bidder, and you thought if you stayed up all night you would get something done, and be rewarded. Being at this point of tired, you threw pillows around, popped sticky pieces of old candy into your mouth, and cried while you held Bimbo, your stuffed dog plush. 

Heavy hearted, it was a blur as to where the goodness in the world was, and you were very bitter. It was intangible, like a flowing river, uncertain like the weather, lonely like a forgotten library. Perhaps a ballad could better convey your heart, or the strum of lute strings, but you were no joyous melody. And there was no one to listen to your song.

Later, when you were sure you had cried yourself out, you thought about what Rick might have been doing. Thoughts of him always had a soft, airy, lightness to them. Was he at home in his garden? Could he be working, perhaps strutting around in one of the silly outfits they made him wear for another investigation?

Rick, you wanted to see him, be lost in the nearness of him. Even if you didn't look so cute, or were tired, he would be kind to you, be understanding in the way he knew best, of this for were sure. And he would have a warm beverage ready when you wanted it, and al the things which toiled you down, he would listen, even if it were repetitive, and droll. You stared at the button eyes of your plushies, and sighed. This would not do, and you weren't about to sit there for another moment, and wallow in the solemn shadows of your house, with its sharp corners, and drafty rooms.

You had to see him, at least hear him, breathe in the scent of his outer garments. A week had been long enough. You saved the file, and turned off the computer. With the amount of work you had done, you were going to need at least a week to recover. And you knew how you planned to spend that week.

More instinctual then purposeful, you changed into warm comfy clothes, and your father's old trench coat. A glance at the mirror, and you frowned. Pigtail braids you could get away with, but minion pajamas? Nope, it would have to do. You didn't pace yourself, and didn't bother to fix your mismatched socks. You rushed, checking three times if the front door was closed and ran like a mad woman to reach his little red door. 

You hadn't called, texted, or emailed. You could have, you were like right there, stuck in front of a monitor for days, but you didn't. You touched his door with reverence, as though you'd receive ten times the punishment if done improperly. Without gloves, the door stole your warmth, which left you with numb fingertips.

Perhaps you should just go home, instead of standing there like a weirdo. No doubt some of the neighbors would come to their own conclusions about your state of dress. Lack of sleep was making you delirious, but you hoped he would somehow sense you were there before you froze because of your own foolishness. It was way too early in the morning for all of this.

Still, all you wanted to feel was that you were home, where the empty rooms weren't holding the echoes of yesterday, but somewhere you were welcomed; a place with a presence. You raised your fist to knock, about to lose your nerve. Why had you even bothered to leave your home in the first place? Confidence waned, you stepped back, as though the slight distance between yourself and this place could return some semblance of your sanity. Where had this irrational attachment to a place you didn't belong to come from?

The lights were on behind the curtains, and smoke was coming from the chimney. Your entire being screamed to be within its colored walls, enveloped in the warmth of the man you loved, and a distance away from everything else which could possibly hurt you. Again, you raised a shaky fist to knock, but gasped when the door opened. There he was, much taller than you remembered, but softer, almost angelic with the light, and the warmth which spilled out, chased away shadows like the dawn. You opened your mouth, but no words came out, you gestured, but it was all just a bundle of confusion.

The lines around his eyes deepened, as well as the creases of his forehead, and a pensive cloudiness of his usually electric blues. Without question, his paint stained hands were placed on your shoulders, and you couldn't help but sniffle; you had missed his touch. You were tired, so terribly tired, and all you wanted to do was sleep, but not yet. You just wanted his attention, his special brand of comfort to soothe this aching. Rick, you managed to whisper.

You didn't care if he was covered in paint, but you opened your arms, unable to ask for what it was you wanted.

Zeta-7 escorted you in, pushed the door closed, and enveloped you in his arms. You breathed in the scent of vanilla, along with acrylic paint, his sweater soft enough to bury your face in. He rocked you from side to side, as though this would help you feel a little closer. With his nose buried in your hair, you squeezed him a fraction tighter, and apologized if he had felt lonely.

Without Ricks warm disposition, without his affection, just so you could finish your rough draft, and bid on those lovely stones, you had spent too much time with your thoughts. And while Rick had respected your need to concentrate, in doing this, you had delved into parts of yourself you thought you'd forgotten. Without him, it had been terribly lonely in your house. But It was going to be alright, you were with Rick now.

Zeta-7 pulled back a little to get a good look at you.

You saw the beginnings of a smile, and lightning of a spirit take place. Oh Rick, the lines on his face etched the story of a happy life, while his crow's feet spoke of laughter. You wondered at times what he would look like without them, but then there would be something lost. The deep creases in his sunken cheeks told of a man who gave away smiles like they were wishes, offering hope wherever he would go. Even if he was a little melancholic at times, his long-boned face, tapering to a pointed chin, highlighted by a winsome smile was the face you adored.

He sniffled, his hands trembled as they cradled your face. Running his hands through your hair, down your neck, and gingerly touching your shoulders, he took a deep breath, before taking your hands to press upon them a kiss. As always, he was a gentleman, and asked softly as how was your day. Then, he wanted to hear everything else, how you were doing, how was your week, how were you feeling, and especially how you felt right now. Right now, together, your laced hands, you were beyond words, and could only focus on feeling.

You moved his hand to touch your face again, stealing their warmth to warm your numb cheek. He frowned, and set about warming them, rubbing, and lightly squeezing, until you had to stop him since you didn't want to tire him out. Dear man, you'd say it was his age which allowed the creeping shadows to make him worry so. And now, when you thought of it, there could be no one else's hands which could worry and wave about you, to rub, and smoothen, to love and be loved the way these hands could do.

What stories his hands could tell if they could speak. They were long, thin, bony, blue corded with veins, soft on the outside, but his palms leathery, gnarled, shaking, and held on for dear life. You wondered if all Ricks had hands like these, which spoke of all their years of hard work, if they trembled with fear, and if they were gentle despite their strength. Yours were neither too small or too large, but somewhere in between, chubby fingers, soft from the lack of physical labor, and warm.

While his hands weren't attractive in a conventional way, they were beautiful, because they were a reflection of his character, which was why you loved them.

You raised your face to watch as his eyes could burn right through you. With serious, but tender eyes, he studied you as though committing your image to memory. A lock of hair he tucked behind your ear, a light kiss he pressed upon your temple, and the longing in his voice did not escape you. He had missed you.

Just knowing you weren't alone, filled you with those fluttery, warm feelings. You inched forward, his words lost in a lingering kiss. His light stubble made you giggle, but that only encouraged him to hold you a fraction closer. With the fire burning and the nearness of him, you were getting warm, and while you didn't want to, you asked if he could let you go so you could remove your coat.

He blushed since he had held you for a good while, and was reluctant to let you go, but he did. Oh, but there was no need for him to feel so apologetic, it had been mutual. And it was amusing to listen to him stammer, and trip over his words of adoration. Content, he needn't do anything more for you. No, on the contrary, Zeta-7 thought he hadn't done enough, and in all rudeness, had forgotten to offer you a drink.

It was fine, it really was, but Rick was antsy, eager to please, and rushed to the kitchen to put on the kettle. When he returned, he tried to put away his art supplies, but you stopped him. You didn't want him to stop on your account, and you weren't planning on leaving right away. Yet, he put it all away anyway, and told you that when he had opened the door earlier, he had been ready to rush to your home, and just see you, since he couldn't take it anymore.

Overcome, you laced your fingers together with his again; you were awfully fond of them. These lovely, rough hands, you had missed their strength, their gentleness, how well your hands fit in his. You apologized, and told him you'd stay for the day, and do whatever it was he wanted to do. He seemed torn, but then he gestured towards the conservatory.

You followed, delighted in the controlled temperature, and he asked if you'd like to help him prune. Honestly, this horrified you, since you had a difficult time keeping anything alive. However, you did say you would do what he wanted. With soft words, and encouragement, you were convinced that maybe you could do this.


	2. Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, the reader learns a few things

You couldn't do it, and if you made one wrong move, you'd kill his babies. Zeta-7 had demonstrated how to cut crossover branches and hangover branches, but you preferred just to clear away the dead leaves instead. Rick puttered around, lovingly pruning, whispering sweet nothings. It was both adorable, and sweet.

According to gardening for dummies, the practice of cleaning up the flower beds, dead plant debris, and clearing the ground, prevented mold growth, spores, and deterred pests. Rick kept his plants happy, healthy, of that you were sure of, but was mold really all that bad? For the plants, probably, but there must have been some that that weren't. Thoughts of Florey and Fleming came to mind, and their scientific pursuits, as well as the scandals behind those names, but what did that have to do with mold?

Funny, the places your mind would go if you allowed it to wander. Why, if you wrote a story about Rick, he would be the protector of a locked garden, a creature of the day, who retreated to the branches at night, twisting, and curling himself, until he was nothing more than a bud. Not so much a beauty and the beast sort of story, but of friendship, of the melding of minds, of spirit, and whoever would come to love this creature, would be one with the garden. A story of two souls, symbiotic, lost to each other, and built up in love.

Rick came around, checked on your progress, and swept away the debris. This brought you back to the real world, and you were determined to do a good job. With a small dustpan, you cleaned up the little pile you had made and dumped it in the marked bin. When you turned back around, you found him staring at you. The lines about his mouth deepened, and whatever he thought about made him sigh happily before he returned to his activity.

It was a simple gesture, but you were appreciative of it. When he was at peace, it was like there was an extra sun in the universe. Everything smelled better, you felt prettier, and in his shared world, you had a taste of paradise. You fed the turtles, Rick fed the fish, every so often you poke him to remind him you were there, and he laughed wholeheartedly when you pouted, because he had been overly affectionate with the hydrangeas.

When you had finished, you passed by the old bird cage to find the rose bush bare. Oh no, why this one? Hmm, Rick must have dried the roses for tea, and before you could receive one of its beautiful offspring. Perhaps one could read too many novels, and with your girlish dreams being crushed by this revelation, you swept, even if it was already clean around it. You sighed, since another disappointment had been added to your list of disappointments.

You heard the clatter of a fallen broom, and then all of a sudden a pair of arms were around you, and he asked what was the matter. Your cheeks felt warm, his breath feathering your ear.Whatever it was you wanted, he said, he would do for you. Zeta-7 wasn't normally this affectionate, and blame it on the magic of the garden, it's warm temperatures, and earthy scents, it's singing plants; his version of paradise, this was where he was most himself.

You leaned into him, taking advantage of his brief confidence. A part of you had craved this sort of attention, and the current of his happiness, made you very warm in your soul, and comfortable. Lips bitten, you thought over the consequences of telling him, but you figured it wouldn't hurt. In a small voice, you told him how you had wanted a rose. Resting his chin on your head, you felt his voice reverberate through you.

There was something he had to show you.

* * *

In the garage, there were several small pots with different sprouting plants. Each one had tags with words written in Latin, each had a shade of colored light on them. Zeta-7 had been experimenting with gene splicing, and the effects of light. These were the ones which had survived. One had straight stems, another was twisted like a pigs tail, two were ghostly white, and the rest were in varying shades of green.

While you were sure they were all going to be lovely, they weren't the blue roses you had seen. From the cabinet, he took out a small, glass bottle shaped like a rose, and gave it to you. It was the concentrated essence, a perfume made from his beloved roses. Knowing you enjoyed scents, he had made it, and you wanted to cry. You had been distressed over flowers, words, and stones, and here he goes being darling, and what had you done?

You ignored him for a week, even though he was only one call away. How could you accept it? You hadn't earned it, but he insisted, and listed all the reasons as to why you did. Whatever ability he had in seeing the best in everyone, you wished you had it too. You wanted to be more like him, because there couldn't possibly be anyone this good, perhaps because he was the only one.

The unattainable or the mysterious, like the single blue rose he handed you, is what he was. There was so much you wanted, so much you wished to understand. The blue rose, frozen in its peak of perfection, you turned in your fingers, finding all its thorns had been cut off. He told you how it had been dipped in a chemical which would prevent it from wilting. And as happy as you were, there was still that seed of self doubt, that there was someone out there more deserving than you.

* * *

 It was cold when you two went back inside. You settled yourself on the comfy side of the couch while he made some popcorn. You flipped through the channels until you found some alternate version of You've Got Mail. The crown jewel of rom-coms, you knew the lines by heart.

When Zeta-7 returned, he smiled when he recognized the Jerry on screen. Jerry? You have heard of Jerry Smith, though you had never seen him in person. This particular Jerry was an actor, and personally you thought he wasn't cut out for the role, but it made Rick happy. Perhaps he knew this particular one. You had seen a few photos of a Jerry in Ricks house, though you hadn't really paid attention to the likeness.

Considering you two had shared the bowl of popcorn, it was only a matter of time before your hand found his at the bottom of the bowl. You moved the bowl aside so you could snuggle up next to him. It was charming to watch as Zeta-7 blushed terribly as he slowly draped an arm around you, and pulled you a little closer. Really, after all the attention he had bestowed on you for a better part of the day, there was no need for all this shyness.

Still, such deep rooted behaviors didn't change in a day. Oh, but this was not the time to ruminate. With his warmth all around you, and your head on his shoulder, you closed your eyes for what felt like a few seconds. However, when you woke, you were in your own bed. Had everything which happened been a lovely, delusional dream?

You called for him, and wondered if you had dreamed it. Hmm, you were still wearing your minion pajamas, and your hair still braided. Moving the blanket, you noticed that about your shoulders, was Rick's labcoat. No, this was proof that it couldn't have been a dream. Again you called for him, and he came in, the floorboards squeaked under his weight.

A cup of warm tea he set on your bedside table, before he took a seat on the nearby stool. What had happened? You asked. When you had fallen asleep, he didn't want you to sleep improperly, so he brought you back home. Not knowing what else to do, he waited.

Rick looked ready for a nap, and you asked if he'd like to go back home, but he didn't want to, so you told him to make himself comfortable. There were plenty of books, your living room TV, or he could tinker with any one of your appliances if he cared to, as long as he was comfortable. Yet, before you went back to bed, he encouraged you to drink the tea so you would have a restful sleep. It didn't smell very good, but with his hands placed over yours, you had the courage to down it. Knowing his comforting presence was in the house, you felt a calm no sedative could provide.

You tugged his lab coat tighter, and lost yourself to restful thoughts, and vanilla scented dreams.

* * *

Later, you found Rick in the kitchen, with the disassembled parts of your vacuum cleaner. Lately, it had been doing that thing where it was spitting out dust. After he had taken apart one of the brush heads, you were a bit sheepish to find that the problem had been caused by an earring; thankfully it was not a favorite of yours. While he was reassembling it, you set about making breakfast and giving him one word answers to his questions.

By now, you thought you would have been over the whole outbid thing, but an early morning email had reminded you all over again of what you had lost. Yesterday, with all the lovely activities you two did together, you'd thought you would have forgotten. And when you no longer answered any of Rick's questions, he stopped what he was doing and patted your back. You just looked at him, his smiling face, unassuming, curious about your cooking technique. It hurt even more to think that you wouldn't get the chance to see that wonder, and the curiosity when you handed him the stones you had mentally picked out.

You opened your mouth, but no words came out.

There was so much which had been building up, and you had tried to forget it all, but it only made you feel worse. Rick waited for you to speak, and when you did, you poured out every stupid little detail. You set aside the unfinished set of pancakes. Right now, all you wanted to do was leave, and go back to bed. Oh, but Zeta-7 took you in his arms, rubbed your back while you sobbed.

It hadn't just been about the crystals and gemstones, or being outbid. You were all sorts of stressed out, about work, and just had too many things on your mind. This was when he offered to take you somewhere. Of course, you were going to need to dress much lighter, and put on a pair of walking shoes.

* * *

Everyone had their version of paradise, but this place, it….it reminded you of places you had only read about.

The brightside of the Moonstone cast a calming, ethereal, blueish glow. The Sunstone and it's weak, yellow light casted a soft warmth. Downhill, arum lilies sang praises, waving about to distract you two. Quickly you two passed them, then stopped again, your eyes drinking in all you could for a moment. This, it couldn't be right, you had just seen an armadillo made out of citrine walk by.

You tried to adjust your goggles, but Rick's firm grip stopped you. On this planet, you had to wear protective eye wear or risk going blind, as well as protective gloves. It was easy to forget at times that even aesthetically pleasing places could hold dangers. You were sure to stay close.

On one side, there was a vision of the sea, calm waves, which even a child would not fear. No boats of any kind, no seashells on the shore, but the sweet breezes which kissed your skin were cooling and refreshing. The purple sands clean and smooth, it's dunes covered with cotton candy maiden grass. In another direction, white peaked mountains were partially disguised by the oncoming storm. You took his offered hand, careful to tread quietly, but you felt no danger; it had been a long time since you had felt that way.

Rose colored clouds drifted by in the cerulean sky. Zeta-7 was quick to point out the shapes he saw, before you two ran for dear life as chunks of violet Apatite rained down. You mimicked his action to tug on the gloves, which activated a deflector shield. With this safety precaution, you were free to admire their loveliness.

* * *

According to Rick, the introduction of certain invasive species had caused some of the wildlife to lie dormant until the conditions were favorable enough for their return back to the surface. The road, a single, well traveled road glittered, it's many misshapen stones made for a colorful walkway. How had it come about you wondered, but Zeta-7 confessed to have done it. It was a funny story actually, which involved a dragon, a princess, and Geologist Rick.

There were many details which were classified information, but as you understood it, many years ago, there was a rock Geologist Rick had wanted. The princess was the rock and the dragon it's protector. In order to protect what he loved, the dragon scattered the shards of the princess in such a way that it was everywhere and in everything. When it was all said and done, a once thriving, and beautiful land was now a dangerous, but still very beautiful land, that could not sustain human life.

The road in question had been made by Zeta-7 who over the years tried to piece together the whereabouts of the princess, and who had unknowingly had attracted various creatures to follow his trail, only to die along the way. A handful of gravel showed pieces of cats eyes, rough bits of crystal, fool's gold, fire opals, and fine purple sand. My how lovely, but he flashed a special light on them, and they began to crawl, while others flew away. What the hell?

As Rick explained, the wildlife were made of living gemstones. And when they ceased to be living souls, they became dust, their leftover organs becoming crystals or stones. However, it was hard to tell what was living, or what was dead. Oh, but you could spend hours here, gazing upon them, curious as to what they were before, who they were before. Still, there was somewhere else he wanted to show you.

* * *

Everything on this side of the planet was dead.

You had your pick of all the stones you wanted, but you had a different opinion now. How many lives had been lost because of one person's careless actions? Why was there such a drastic change in the environment? There was so much you didn't understand, but one day you hoped you would. Perhaps, if there was ever enough time, Rick could teach you, show you his ways, so that in some way you could understand.

Every so often, when he did take you off world, to some distant planet, or to some different dimension, your universe expanded. The more you learned, the less you knew, and unless it was all fixed, like it suddenly all stopped somewhere, then the literal universe was ever expanding. With Rick, would there ever be enough time to see it all? Only time would tell.

* * *

Curious as to why the creatures here had died, you drew your own conclusions which were not too far off from the truth. Due to atmospheric changes, the air quality on this side of the planet was not sufficient to sustain any life, which was why you two had to wear breathing masks. The crystalline plants left standing were also dead, but you would never be able to tell. Everything was more muted here, a lot more greys, and earth tones, and there was more than enough stones to pick from. However, you weren't here to take what was dead, but to learn.

Appreciate what you had, before it was taken away.

Alright, perhaps there was no moral to the story, and you had been searching for meaning where there wasn't any. Knowing Zeta-7, he brought you here because he wanted to show you something beautiful, something you loved, and in some way share what he loved with you. The scientist he was, saw everything fascinating, even if melancholic. Who knows what power the princess had which allowed a utopia to fend for itself against the elements, but that was beyond you. All you saw now was your own piece of paradise as he brushed away some dust, collected small samples of various stone types.

You found a suitable place to sit, while Rick scanned some geodes. His face brightened when he cracked a few open to examine their formations. The loveliest you would say was one with multiple layers of colorful agate and a crystal-filled central cavity. Each colored band represented an episode of agate formation due to chemical changes in the ground water.

Along the side of your goggles, he pressed a button which allowed you to view the chemical composition of whatever it was you looked at. Charts and lists of known chemicals made it a bit hard to see, and when you stared at Zeta-7, it went crazy, words flashed, lists, charts, even a snazzy little jingle played. You pressed the side button, which deactivated the function before you had a seizure. It made you wonder what secrets he was hiding, but then again it might have had something to do with all the places he had to visit during work hours.

For a while, you made shapes in the sand. Later, not wanting to disturb him, you dared not stray too far, and settled with circling about the group of crystalline Juniper trees. They were terribly sharp, and perfectly shaped like figurines. Why, if you were to touch their very tips, would you not bleed? As tempting, and as stupid as it would have been, you backed away, and took plenty of photos instead.

This wasn't the time to test the theory of whether or not you were a Disney princess.

Even here, in the desert plains, the Sunstone and the Moonstone were easily seen. Was it possible, that the princess became the moon and the dragon the sun? Ricks eyes widened to this idea, and he thought about testing your theory, but then stopped. There was some things better left unknown, and this place had been through enough.

Perhaps, you were smarter than you thought, and that somehow, someway, this place could be perfect again.

* * *

Zeta-7 brought you two back to his garage before his portal gun lost all its charge. You were fast to sit by the roses, whose heat lamps kept you warm. To the smallest of them, you told the story of a very special man. And in your heart, you hoped that this one would grow to be the strongest, and even more beautiful than the rest.

In the corner, Rick had placed every sample in a chemical bath. When he was done, he removed his gloves, and scratched the back of his neck. The crystals would take about three days, while the stones about two weeks. Rick knew how to form rocks and grow crystals?

From all the samples he had collected, why he could grow you a garden of gems, shape them to your heart's desire. He rubbed his arm, eager to please, waiting for you to say the word. He would do it, why he would do almost anything if you asked him, but you pressed a finger to his lips, and shook your head. No, he didn't have to. This was enough, you admitted, you already had your perfect gem right here. With Rick, you had more than enough, and he would never not be enough.


End file.
